


I'm Fine

by Nekoluver



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Sick Character, Sick Fic, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekoluver/pseuds/Nekoluver
Summary: Matt's really bad at taking care of himself





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonThistle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonThistle/gifts).



> I don't know how the hell to tag this. Warnings for swearing I guess?  
> [ Prompt: Eddsworld platonic sickfic](http://nekoluver.tumblr.com/post/156069688105/prompt-eddsworld-platonic-sickfic)

Oh god this hangover is worse than usual. Tom could almost swear the pounding in his head was coming from outsi- Wait. He rolls out of bed with a groan, groggily running fingers through his mussed up hair as he shuffles awkwardly to the door. He flinches slightly when opening it reveals the harsh light of the hallway. “What.”

Edd’s standing on the other side, hands nervously fiddling with his sweater strings. “Matt’s sick.”

He makes it sound like the guy’s dying or something. If Tom listens close enough he can hear coughing from down the hall. Dude’s probably just being a dumbass (as usual), but it wouldn’t be the first time he landed himself in the hospital. For such a narcissist, Matt _sucks_ at taking care of himself.

When Tom barges into Matt’s apartment unannounced it’s to find him precariously balanced on a stack of boxes trying to dust the toys oh his top shelf with some obnoxious feather duster. Who has floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with _toys_ , anyway?

“Oh, hey Tom!” Matt greets cheerily despite having to grasp the edge of the shelf to keep himself from falling.

Tom leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a serious expression on his face as he observes the other man. Matt’s still beaming at Tom, likely waiting for an explanation as to why he’s suddenly in his apartment, ignoring the fact that the box tower has started swaying slightly. “Get down,” Tom says sternly.

“What? Tom I’m fi- AAAAH!” It all comes crashing down, Matt landing in a pile of crushed cardboard on the floor. It doesn’t look comfortable.

“You have a fever.” Tom hasn’t moved from his spot at the doorway, but he’s certain of it. He’s been around a sick Matt often enough to know just by looking at him.

“How’d you know?” Matt’s pouting but he hasn’t denied it, which isn’t a good sign. He must be feeling like absolute shit if he’s not even going to bother with excuses.

Tom sighs, pushing himself off the wall. He looms over Matt, who still hasn’t bothered to move. Apparently the corner jabbing into his back isn’t bothersome enough- another bad sign. Tom offers his hand to help him up, which somehow ends up with Matt leaning most of his weight onto Tom’s shoulder, causing them both to stumble.

“Tooooom,” Matt whines, clinging tight and pressing his face into Tom’s hoodie. “I don’t feeeeel good.”

Tom sighs again, patting the man’s head awkwardly. “I know you don’t.” He tries to sound sympathetic, but it probably comes across as annoyed.

“I don’t _wanna_ be sick!” He sounds like he’s about to cry. This is a grown man.

Tom feels the sudden urge to push Matt off of him. He’s clinging too much and he’s too warm; it’s really uncomfortable. Matt seems unsteady enough that he might actually collapse though, and that would be more troublesome than just walking him over to the bed.

Matt flops down with a long, high-pitched line that feels like it’s grating against Tom’s skull. “Toooommmmm! You’re too rooouuuugh!”

If Tom had eyes he wouldn’t rolled them. He could’ve thrown Matt onto the bed and he would’ve just sunk into the ridiculously plush mattress like it was a big, cushy marshmallow. Tom fights for a minute to dislodge the comforter from his uncooperative friend. Once he’s satisfied with how well Matt’s tucked into the bed, Tom pats him on the chest and heads out the door.

It’s about two minutes later when Tom bursts back into Matt’s apartment, managing to startle the man badly enough that he once again ends up in a pile on the floor. Tom raises an eyebrow, “Really, Matt?”                                            

“But it’s a _mess_!” Seriously, he sounds like such a child. Figured he would’ve outgrown this by now but apparently not.

“It’s going to be more of a mess if you keep breaking things because you can’t stand right.” Aaand now Matt’s crying. Of course. Tom groans, knowing how impossible Matt is at this stage. Tom grabs him under the arms, hoists him up, practically dragging him back to bed. He tucks him in tighter this time, hoping to keep him from wiggling free. “Now stay and get some rest, will ya? Don’t make me sit on you.”

“That wasn’t fair when we were kids and it’s not fair now!” Tom can’t help but smirk at the squeaky, indignant tone of Matt’s voice. At least until the coughing fit starts.

“Wait here.” Matt nods miserably in response and Tom makes his way to the kitchen. He prepares hot tea but throws an ice cube in it because he knows damn well Matt’s too impatient to wait for it to cool.

“ _Thanks_ ,” it comes out as a croak.

Matt looks ashamed, covers his mouth. Tom ruffles his hair, looks away. They sit in silence for a while. Matt’s drinking his tea and Tom’s timing the minutes between coughs. Matt’s been hiding this for a while. When the cup’s empty Tom practically snatches it from Matt’s hands, commanding him to lay down and _actually_ sleep.

When he comes back Matt’s staring at him, two big round eyes peering out from under the blanket. “What?” So what if he snaps a little bit? He’s exasperated. He just wants Matt to friggin'  _sleep_.

“Play me a song?” It’s barely a whisper.

Tom wasn’t expecting the request. He’s taken aback, considers it for a moment. “Ngh _fine_ ,” he huffs, stomping over to his apartment to grab Susan.

Matt’s staring at the doorway expectantly when he returns, blinking slow. He looks tense, but relaxes some when Tom pulls up a chair next to his bed. Tom plays a couple of warm up cords and watches Matt snuggle deeper into his blankets. He’s fast asleep by the end of the first song, but Tom plays a couple more just for good measure. They’re old lullabies, the ones they used to hear as kids. By the end of them he’s feeling tired again himself. Taking care of a sick Matt is exhausting; hopefully he won’t have to deal with that again tomorrow.

There’s a soft smile on his face as he tucks Tomee Bear in next to Matt. The idiot needed someone to watch over him throughout the night. Tom gently ruffles his hair one more time before going back to his apartment to sleep.


End file.
